I wish someone would fall for me
the same way I've fallen for you
time after time,
it's felt like an inevitable trap I drown myself in
The fatigue that wraps around my head while I try to itch away the flaking, burnt skin from my arms, from my chest,
Passion is a fragmenting jail I can't fight tormenting myself with
If I could only stop loving the wrong people
over and over
Maybe then I'd stop running out of air
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 12:44 PM UTC
Every day I want to go home
Every day I want to go home,
When it rains, when my heart pours,
when I smile, when I frown
Every day I feel a little bit closer to forgetting about it
remaking the nest that was once ours,
yours and mine,
mine and yours,
but then again it all comes crashing back to me,
I feel like curling up inside myself
and living in my memories
For how softspoken they are,
It's a warmth I can't replace, so easily
So when I'm scared, I feel so drawn
Again and again,
In reckless awareness
Every day.
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 1:13 PM UTC
Dear sunshine, what is it like
to stare below,
to look
and watch over the big blue sky that everyone has above them?
You see all
the rivers dancing and storm clouds brewing
steady downpour
trickling through the grooves of my frailed hands
overly drawn,
the imagination of what it is to “love”
to be in love;
without an inch of doubt
cocooning.
Like disparity under these moth eaten sheets.
Corners of a room creeping with things' too tediously acknowledged,
the polite stare to an old acquaintance
tolerated
unconsciousness.
Pleading with
every bright declaration
for the rotted floorboards to break away,
breathing in where that blue sky hasn’t touched in what feels like decades.
A declaration,
a primitive dedication to one whom is but an illusory mirror of your own perception.
A dull tasting lie.
for the singular touch of a singular person in every moment of your conscious existence.
Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 7:09 PM UTC
Apologies
Like a cloud, overhanging
the colour blue,
where we lie
maybe not,
those residing words, written out
after a night once again.
Left alone, always
the colour blue.
Draining roses,
in minutes staining
I'm blushing,
you're vacant
it's day again.
Littering nameless things
breath in draft
Intrepid,
naked anatomy
sticky with vapour
and the subversion of
my smile,
inspirited between us
where spring lives
in the transitory skies
just like a kiss
goodnight,
goodbye.
Blue
The colour of you.
Jul 11, 2019
Jul 11, 2019 at 12:33 AM UTC
Violet Valley
Violent Valley
In unison
a painted progression
possession
Seen to the point of intrusion
Illusive
In a cloak of mercenary wander
A violet valley
of a crimson dawn
Drawn from scarlet billows
Where I seethe
Into a prison I saw
A vision blurred from yours
Under the heath of an adolescence
comes a lapse of time
in a spiritless essence
Godless
Unsheathing itself
In the beds of silence
the voice of a cobalt rebellion
Freedom stricken
Gaslit onto your lips
The index of incendiary
Rearing fruits of wonder
Where knowledge is set without bound
born from the dusk
of a violet valley
No truth knows where it has risen
For curiosity is kept unkempt
inside obscure tides
of thought from yours to mine.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 4:25 AM UTC
Diacridic
He lays
While the leaves sit underneath
the brilliance of sincerities tree,
and thinking to you
were all the things done by.
As it were
Discriptless
Pages left turned and inkless
What's left behind inside
the minds of an intertwining summer
a conclusion predesignated.
I saw to you,
just as I waved hello to goodnight’s moon.
As they touched along the surfaces
fleeting into the skin
A welcomed wound.
And didn’t you know,
That the pictures I stole
Of every point of you
Were etching onto sheets of heaven
into the reflections of the mirrors
that sit before your bedside.
While it rests
with mixed spirits,
the roses that I bore
Passing through glowing bodies
are the images you started to dream with me
while the silences burrow
A judgement left only partially bridged.
Melded with the manifestation of adoptions quest
And as the calls ring in secluce,
I still feel that this alley is ghostless
Lest this vase breathe the life
of unwilted flowers
where the flip sides meet
on the evenings tides
joined by charmed indifferences
in company with the character
of an old flame,
only tangible with
lights which lay ahead.
medleyed in to what's to be.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
Below the surfaceless
looking above
under the furls of wavering clouds
all you'd see is that untouched stare
an absence of warmth disclosed
elapsing over,
collapsing over
you
Shallows edges so elusive,
as obscure as a serpents nest
anonymous as the rest,
intrusive like these dated feelings
and yet those eyes like minds wander
wonder as if it's ever been to lie beyond
those gated passages to Edens flowers
a pocket of hours been laid before you,
Ghosts.
And the continuance to roam
inside of these channels
left empty and vacuous
so out of depth,
with filtering essence of memory
faltering lights of ambiguity,
letting the pieces drip upwards
you’re alone together with what ties are to be had
you speak as through the pith
of this insecurity,
the plight of this immaturity
a footstep in the waters
spilling from your tongue.
Venture from the beginning
a start to finish
as though time bounded in ripples
your tinted sight lines
undesigned and impalpable
even through strategy
under the palms, your hands,
the happens mind of another kind,
settling not in stones but
in sands
a habitual mess of ingraining
always draining and seeping
never enclosing,
fostered only by a feint solace
in the flooded catacombs of yours.
A participance of midnights moons
in these swimming conversations,
cycled discussions
the rising tides of snake eyes
with one onerous touch
submerging your voice
into a fragmented drowse
burning notes left from pictures
choking out all that swirls
the delirious magnetism of weight that pulls to you
creating an astringent terrain,
as your blood is spilling down
a pipeless drain.
A manifestation of ego's brain bubbling down
under the masque of self-worth and integrity
into a thick mud
painted with entitlement
across a dotted line
the deeds of your fascinations
possessions to another
inclinations unbeknownst to you,
against the black skies
opposing truths of deflection
you find yourself with silkless ink
writing what you think it to be
beyond your skin
and the closer the pen drips
the tighter the bolts become
on the grips over your perception
a darker rainstorm
straining out
lifelessly.
Pressure slowly eased
into soothful washing
though cliffs eroded from memory
cresting the hall
that remains beneath
as a little boy
with glassless eyes
and a mouth full
of rose thorns,
Greeting you
To the welcomes of goodbyes,
until the shrill whispers
of the sirens of deception call you
once more
threading over your faces
elapsing the rims of reality,
overgrowing its garden
into a shipwrecked valley
warped by tainted reveries.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 4:39 PM UTC
A man born without wings into the ashes of a forest
dead leaves and a valley of butterflies
Bleached to be ethicless
effortless as it is
To go without pursuit of question
A mind of matter
Wherein death lies one doesn't know
You're feeling all these expectancies
all these dependencies
Energy of yours, unhinged
The screens written
with the bastardisation of simple truths
Rhythmic as a creature
as spoken wavelength navigating
A wondering memory standing in front of the collectives
Transcendence above the impermanence
A palace on the grounds among us, but separated
dangerous minds of a phenomenon, in sequencing
Unceasing in divinity and untempered
by the indignation of his companions
Free to be, among the meadows of ourselves.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
As drops descend from his face, rolling past his heart to be soaked up by whoever might pass underneath
Blanketed in a wispy layer of mist
he grips her hand tightly
Wanting to get up from the place he’s been anchored to for so long but not ready to
The dull sinking feeling that resides over him, pushing him further and further deeper
into the surface
These absent buildings clinging around only setting him in his place,
at the edge of perception
What is left of his mind begins to drift, leaching out like a plague of activity across a circuit board
And exactly like a switch, he finds something she hid inside of him
An incendiary note, left
Time itself seems to stop for a moment,
sparking from him
Setting her soul ablaze
so vibrantly scorching her existence
And so, I stand
In witness
Of such an ethereal sight
and see
just the smallest details
where drops turn to streams and paralysis turns into a rigid tremble
Managing to unclasp his hands from where they were
he shivers
Placing his hands onto the pavement
unfamiliarity seeping out his fingertips and spilling
the snow melting softly around him
Unknowing of where exactly I am, he tries to compose himself
But he doesn’t notice that his legs have gone unused for so long
Struggling to stand like a newly born lamb he stumbles
thankful for the absence of those buildings
His breath unconcealed in the spiritless atmosphere
Caution in the wind veiled by snowflakes
falling
Just like before, the sheets of ice lay atop, varnishing what seems to be a landscape of optimism
Obscured by crimson flesh and soft chimes of melancholy that resonates within him,
a sun rises
He begins to stand
The mist circling his feet, trailing him as he makes his way beyond the buildings
Beyond the colourless town
Beyond his travesty
His heart still so sharply yearning for what once was but couldn’t be
to something more
And here I stand
A distance so short
away from him
in an entirely parallel world
Watching him as he takes the first steps out of the mist
closer, and closer
he steps
his face, as cold as ice
detached from this harbour
transcending gradually into consciousness
I decide to put my reservations aside and reach out for him
the light piercing through his lifeforce
irises so profound
an abyss of magnificence
alluding to what could only be the unfaltering desire of inception
the temptations that captivate him
releasing him from where he once stood
and so he realises;
The snow is no longer dripped with red
and it is instead
an eternal springtime in his mind
enlightened
the new surroundings
curing him from the dangers of his thought
beaming with new hope
and for the first time
I see in clarity
an angels wings repair itself
from the depths of grief and desolation.
and then I weep.
For nothing could have prepared me for the sight of this journey.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC
Assigned by angels to be the vessel
of your opal eyes
I don't mind
These days all I want to see
is the radiance you bring forth
a tranquil break in the folds
streaming through me
As I stand in regard
with the threads of yours wrapped around mine
a spatial interlude
long glimpses at your blueprints
in my sights
the daybreak of my existence
the gleaming brilliance of yellow
the daring cosmos of nights’ sky
Those night skies
its expanse I clear with no expense
I only hope for you
for you to notice
the bones of mine that bloom after you
a synthesis so sweet
as I see you
glance back to me as we dance across this field
as I tread light
a nimbus and a kite
the vessel of your opal eyes
a contract laced with gold
dusted with your breath.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC